They Forgot To Give Her A Funeral
by kmm21
Summary: Why didn’t Natasha Romanoff, the soul of the Avengers, half of the reason they won, get a funeral?


After Natasha died, nothing was ever the same.

Of course, no one who had been Dusted knew that she was dead until after the war was over. Until after Tony was also dead. And while that seemed to take precedence in everyone's minds, inside their hearts and homes, they grieved for her.

Wanda Maximoff found out after the battle. She went over to hug Clint, who looked wearier than he should have after just the one fight. As she asked about Vision, Clint's face dropped, and as she asked after Natasha, whom she hadn't seen during the battle, Clint's half broken demeanour shattered and he cried for hours.

She began to wear Natasha's red jacket more. Soon it was every day, until the jacket seemed to meld onto her skin and it was impossible to see her without it on. Wanda thought it to be a lifeline, a way to keep Natasha with her for both her own sake and for Clint's. A way to remember. Wanda grieved in the privacy of her bedroom.

She dreamed of the times she spent with Natasha while they were on the run. She wished to have those moments back, to have just one more conversation with the woman who had taught her so much, who had taught her not to be afraid in the face of imminent chaos. She was glad Natasha had not insisted on taking her jacket back.

And while Wanda was remembering, she forgot to give her a funeral.

Steve hadn't known anyone when he had first woken up. Fury was the first to help him, setting him up an apartment, attempting to help him adjust to modern twenty-first century, but Natasha was the first person to treat Steve like a regular person. She had been his first friend here, and slowly but surely he found himself falling. Steve thought of her as the perfect blend of Peggy and Bucky, though both were irreplaceable in his heart. He trusted her, and she trusted him, and he hadn't been able to save her. "Get a life," He'd told her; "You first," She'd responded, and she had made sure of that.

And while Steve mourned his lost love, he forgot to give her a funeral.

Bruce Banner was a man lost in time, and he knew that. Not a man out of time like Steve, but lost in time. He knew the risks they all took being superheroes. No matter how carefully they planned, how many precautions they took, there was always a margin for error, and that was acceptable. They all knew the risks of being the Avengers. He just never thought that that margin would take Natasha.

She was a light on his dark path; she was there when he needed her the most and he had not returned the favour. He'd disappeared without a trace for two years, and when he returned there was no down time until half the population dusted. Then they were searching the planet for survivors and hoping beyond everything that the universe would bring Tony back to them.

There was never a right time to talk to her, and when they'd killed Thanos to complete their mission, he decided to take the cowardly way out. He disappeared again. Of course, he knew she knew where he was. She had surveillance on every one of her teammates, every second of every day for five years. Even while he studied and epiphanied and transformed; merging his consciousness and Hulk's brawn into a single being.

He told everyone that it was something to do, that it was another experiment, but there was a deeper reason - if he looked less like himself, he'd forget the man he was all those years ago; the man who'd fallen in love with her. It would hurt less if he didn't look like either himself or the Hulk. He could forget his betrayal to Natasha. But he never gave up hope that there would be a right time to talk to her. And then suddenly, that hope was extinguished.

Because she was gone. Bruce Banner was a man lost in time, because he wanted to go back to when things were simple. When he'd created a murder bot with Tony, and when he could have conversations with Natasha. The margin of error had torn his life apart, and now his reason for living, his hope, was gone.

And while he was lost, he forgot to give her a funeral.

Thor Odinson was no stranger to Death. But he also wasn't a friend to such a harsh creature. After Natasha died, Thor felt guilt ripping through his gut. And sorrow, and pain, and the need for revenge, but he knew that that was not what she would've wanted, and so he honoured her memory by keeping it untainted.

He remembered only the good, and the learned. He remembered the way she smiled, and the way she laughed, and the way he would beam proudly at her as she washed the blood off her hands, small bit by small bit. "You are repaying your debt." He would think.

He knew about the guilt and the blood that came with warrior's hands, and he knew that she would never rest until it was repaid in full, and to the fullest she did. She gave her life to the noblest of causes, for the best of the world and it's inhabitants, and he knew that her debt was repaid.

And while he gave her permission to rest, he forgot to give her a funeral.

Scott Lang knew exactly three things about Natasha Romanoff: she was a powerful leader who took no shit, she knew fighting techniques that were thousands of years old, and she made the best peanut butter sandwiches in the world.

So, when she didn't return from the mission with Clint, he didn't believe it. He stood in what he called hope, what the others called denial. He prayed to some hopefully existent god that she would come back. Time went on and there was nothing. But still he kept hoping; after all, she was a hero. And heroes couldn't just... die.

Scott wasn't stupid, he was dangerously optimistic. But when Tony Stark died and Scott realized that not heroes, but good people, could fall, sacrifice their lives for their cause, he finally accepted that Natasha was gone. He never really cried about it. He hadn't known her personally enough for that. But he thought about her constantly.

How she was kind. How she was strong. How she had put her family first. How she'd thrown aside any regard for her own well being in order to ensure that they had a future. Scott Lang knew that Natasha Romanoff was a hero, a great person. But more than that, Scott Lang knew that she was a good person.

And in his revelation, he forgot to give her a funeral.

Sam Wilson had come to see many things over the years. War, famine, disease, heartbreak. He'd come to see Captain America as his best friend, with two ex-assassins coming in as close seconds. He was open with Steve, snarky with Bucky, and silent with Natasha. It wasn't that they didn't talk, or joke, or even fight occasionally, it was that they talked more in depth when they were silent.

After the battle had ended, Sam searched for Natasha. She had to be somewhere; stuck under a pile of rubble or perhaps in a med bay. It wasn't until he confronted Steve about it that he was told the truth. Natasha had given her life for his. For all of theirs. She was gone.

So later, when the air was chilled and all life on the earth outside had ceased, he stilled and listened. He could almost hear her talking to him as he breathed, could almost hear her laughing with him as he smiled, could almost see her face when he closed his watering eyes.

And as Sam Wilson listened, he forgot to give her a funeral.

Lila Barton didn't know anything was wrong, at first. One moment, she was watching her father pull arrows from the target, and the next, he was gone. He couldn't disappear in just a blink, could he? They didn't see him for several days, but about a week later he showed up with a new haircut and a sorrowful soul.

It had been five years. Lila marvelled at the dramatic changes of her father, and didn't question him when he told her to put on a black outfit. They were going to a funeral. Tony Stark was dead. That's all she figured out from the funeral, and from what she remembered of him, he had been a great man.

They were all there recognizing him-all of the Greats. _The_ Captain America her school and classmates idolized, _the _Winter Soldier her daddy had been punished for protecting, the literal _god _Thor, the genius Bruce Banner whose loss the world had cried over for years, the Scarlet Witch whose brother had died so that her daddy might come home to them, even Mr Fury. But there was no Auntie Nat. During the funeral, Lila's eyes shifted side to side, hoping to catch a glance of her Auntie Nat's bold red hair. She dared to ask her father afterwards where Natasha was.

Lila Barton spent days in her room, crying, screaming, cursing, mourning. She ripped down pictures she had drawn for Natasha and crumpled them, and sobbed as she tried desperately to flatten them to return their former glory. She refused to take off the friendship necklace Natasha had had the other half to. It was her last connection to her aunt.

She shut out her mother's attempts to console her, her brothers' attempts to cheer her up, her father's shared grief. She became angry, bitter. She shut out the world in order to grieve for the woman who knew her the best.

And in her despair, she didn't once think about giving her a funeral.

Laura Barton was drawn to danger, the way Sherlock Holmes was drawn to homicides - there was really no doubt about it. But there was no way she'd ever be involved in anything more secretive than stealing a pack of gum every once in a while.

So, if someone had told teenaged Laura that she would end up marrying a superhero and being involved with some of the most famous and powerful people in the world, she would've laughed. If someone had told Laura Barton that her best friends would be her husband and his lost stray of a woman: the world's deadliest and most wanted assassin, she would've called the police. But they would both end up being true, and Laura couldn't imagine having it any other way.

She loved Natasha like her sister. They were the sisters who gave each other good advice and unlimited, unconditional love. She loved Natasha like her friend. They were the friends that didn't need to talk to fill the silence, but when they started, they wouldn't stop for hours. She loved Natasha like her child. The red head had been deprived of so much and Laura took it upon herself to give Natasha experiences, and help her to learn what it was to be human again. So when Laura was told what had happened, she weeped.

And as Laura grieved for the woman who had been her sister, her best friend, and her first daughter, she forgot to give her a funeral.

Stephen Strange had met Tony Stark. He had spent time with Tony Stark. He had grown to respect Tony Stark. He had grieved publicly for Tony Stark. But Stephen Strange had never met Natasha Romanoff. He had never spent time with Natasha Romanoff, but he respected her and her role in defeating Thanos, which, he came to realize, was probably why he was grieving for her.

Grief was an idiotic emotion, really, especially for someone he had never met, but he didn't question why he was feeling it. He grieved for her privately, slowly, but with a burning intensity. He grieved for her when no one was watching, because he didn't feel that he had the right to. After all, he hadn't even known her.

And because he didn't know her, he didn't think about giving her a funeral.

After Natasha died, nothing was ever the same.

_No one was ever the same. _

_———_

_Whoooooa y'all, that was intense. Leave me your thoughts! Anyways, Part 2 will be up soon! (It will have all the characters missing from this part, obviously, including an extra special one) XO, Me_


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